Nightwalker

by Rhonda L. Print

I left him standing there, his hands kind of suspended in mid motion as if they still held my arms.

  “We should get going.” I opened my car door.

  He shook his head as if to wake from a nightmare; then crossed the sidewalk to his car. I followed him out of the parking lot.

  Another day … another murder. Yippee!

  Chapter Four

  Wilson and Ramírez arrived on scene a couple of minutes after Joaquín and me. I turned to face them. Any excuse not to look at what remained of the human being on the ground was good enough for me. Ramírez let out a low whistle. “Damn. Looks like someone put her through a shredder.”

  Everyone that works with the day-to-day cruelty of man against man forms some kind of barrier to keep the reality of it from seeping in. Usually it’s a blank, neutral expression. Show no emotions, feel no emotions. If you can’t separate the gore from the day, then you can’t do your job. Some people crack jokes, some just develop a blank, neutral face. I was the latter. Somehow, with Ramírez, it sounded like he was just being an ass.

  “Ramírez.” Wilson made his name a command. He knew he was baiting me.

  I ignored them both and turned my attention to the body. The woman was older than the last, in her late twenties or so. Her clothes lay in tattered strips around her as if they had been only rags when she wore them. The dark blue of her jeans gave away the fact that they were most likely new. More disturbing was that the leather jacket she had worn was stripped to so much confetti, along with the upper half of her body. Unlike the last victim, she was lying in a very large pool of blood. The human body contains anywhere from four to ten quarts of blood. I know it’s a big difference, but it all depends on who you ask. It appeared that every drop of her blood lay on the ground turning darker as it dried.

  “What could have tattered her leather and denim like that?” I asked of no one in particular.

  Joaquín answered, “Maybe a mountain lion.”

  “Don’t they usually hide their kill in the brush so they can eat it later?” We simultaneously turned our heads to Ramírez. “It wouldn’t just kill it and leave it here, would it?” Ramírez added.

  The silence hung over us.

  “Fine, I’ll ask. How the hell did you know that? You’re a confirmed city boy. I don’t think mountain lions are a big problem in the downtown area.”

  Ramírez shrugged. “Wildlife Television. The ballgame had a rain delay.”

  A collective “ahh” and all heads turned back to the victim.

  “They also usually go for the throat. Her neck is torn up but the real damage is on the chest,” Wilson added.

  Aaron stood off to the side as if he didn’t want to be too close to the body. I didn’t blame him.

  “Has anything been tampered with, Joaquín?” I continued.

  “Aaron?” Joaquín motioned him over. “Is this how she was found?”

  “Yeah,” he replied a little shakily. “We had a couple of kids on ATVs riding off the trails. I came out to chase them off the reservation. By the time I got here they were hysterical, said they’d found a body. I took their statements and called their parents.”

  “Did they touch anything?” Wilson asked.

  “No. They were too hysterical to stay, I let their fathers take them home about thirty minutes ago.”

  There was a look of concern on Joaquín’s face. Aaron’s shaky voice had given away just how much seeing this was stealing from his soul. I wanted to comfort Aaron, ask him if he was okay, but that would break the man code, or some shit like that. Men don’t ask men if they are okay unless they’re wounded. Emotions are kept inside and dealt with alone. I don’t get it, but hey, I’m a girl.

  We stood in an awkward moment of silence.

  Aaron kept his eyes on Joaquín and away from the body.

  “Head on back to the office, Aaron, and start the report. I’ll take this from here,” Joaquin ordered.

  Aaron breathed a sigh of relief and all but sprinted back to his squad car. He wasted no time in getting the hell away from this mess.

  “There’s no identification on her. I’ll run her through missing persons and see what turns up.” Joaquin turned his attention back to the body.

  “That won’t be necessary.” A quiet voice came from the darkness.

  Three guns were pulled and trained on the shadows. None of us had heard anyone coming up behind us.

  “Raise your hands in the air and walk backward toward us slowly,” Wilson ordered.

  He raised his hands but didn’t turn his back to us.

  “Do not shoot. I am unarmed. She is, was, my responsibility.” A tall dark figure moved toward us.

  Joaquín moved forward. “Ian?”

  “It is I, young Joaquín.”

  “Who the hell are you?” I kept my gun aimed at his chest.

  “Lower your weapons.” Ian spoke softly with a commanding edge to his voice.

  I wasn’t impressed.

  “It’s okay, Leah. Lower your gun.” Joaquín, Ramírez and even Wilson dropped their guns to their sides.

  “Lower your gun, Leah.” A nervous tone tinted Joaquín’s voice.

  “I’ll lower my gun after he’s been checked for weapons and when I know who the hell he is,” I called out to Ian. “Turn around and walk backward toward us. I will not ask again.”

  The men looked at me as if I’d spoken a foreign language.

  He obeyed my order and slowly turned, keeping his hands raised. Cautiously he took a few steps closer.

  “Frisk him, damn it!” I ordered. The hair on the back of my neck was standing at attention, never a good sign. I kept my gun steady on the stranger and used my left arm to nudge Wilson. He did one of those full-body chills; then blinked like he’d just woken up.

  All I could see of Ian was the shadow outline of a man, like a black ghost. He took a couple more steps back and the light of the moon illuminated him, almost as if he were glowing from it. He wore all black. A tight black shirt highlighted his wide shoulders and was tucked into his pants at his narrow waist. The pants were of a thicker material than denim and they fit snugly over the curve of his ass, a very nice ass. The pant legs disappeared into tall leather boots that form-fitted his calves up to his knees, similar to the boots of a pirate or a musketeer. I thought his hair was short until the moonlight glinted on it. It was actually as black as his clothes, wavy and inches from the middle of his back. It was longer than mine, but his body was all masculine male. He stood over six feet tall. His arms were dutifully raised in the air, palms showing in a gesture to prove he was not armed.

  Wilson patted him down in the efficient, well-practiced manner of a veteran cop. “He’s clean.”

  “As I said.” His voice was low and calm, showing no sign of distress. “May I now rest at ease?”

  “You may,” Wilson replied. His formal tone was apparently contagious.

  He turned slowly. His front was even nicer than his back. He looked good coming and going. His face was pale in contrast to his hair and clothing. His eyes were partially hidden behind his hair and while I couldn’t tell the color, they were deep set and inquisitive through the veil of his hair. His somewhat aristocratic nose set well in his masculine features and his mouth was full and bow shaped, his lower lip jutting out slightly.

  Just pouty enough to make you want to kiss it. Repeatedly.

  His hands were still held in front of him, again palm forward. A “don’t shoot, see I’m harmless” expression was on his face.

  Sure.

  “I have been frisked and still you point your gun at me.” He had a tone that was both curious and accusatory. Dimples hinted in his face as he spoke, they added an extra touch of charm to him. “I assure you. I mean you no harm. I merely wish to collect my dead and go home.”

  “Just call me cautious.” I kept my gun aimed at the center of his broad chest. “What exactly do you mean, ‘collect your dead’?”

  The other men with me were strangely quiet. “Wilson, you still wit
h me?” I asked, not daring to take my eyes off the stranger.

  Joaquín put his hand on my left shoulder; it wouldn’t do to disturb my gun hand.

  “Leah, this is Ian Nightwalker,” Joaquín explained. “He lives within the reservation. You can put your gun up.”

  I saw Wilson loosen the tension in his shoulders. “Holster your weapon, Leah.” The authoritative quality I knew and loved was back in his voice. I holstered my gun.

  Everyone became reanimated at once, as if a pause button had been released on a recording. Joaquín made introductions all around. Odd, considering that Joaquín said he lived on the reservation, or was that within the reservation?

  What did Ian mean, “she is mine” and he’d come to “collect his dead”? So many questions to ask. Where to start?

  “How exactly is she yours, Mr. Nightwalker?” I let my displeasure at his phrasing clearly show.

  “Please, call me Ian.”

  “I’d prefer you just answer the questions, Mr. Nightwalker.”

  “You are very candid, Miss Leah.” He raised his eyebrows.

  “You have no idea,” Joaquín mumbled under his breath.

  I gave him the look he deserved then focused my attention back to Ian Nightwalker.

  “Hey, Wolfe, want me to read him his rights first?” Ramírez added sarcastically.

  “I’m not a cop, Ramírez. I don’t have to give him any damn rights and my patience is about as thin as it gets.”

  “Am I under arrest? If you are not an officer of the law, then I believe I do not have to answer your queries.”

  “Leah, ease down,” Wilson, strangely quiet until now put in. “I have an investigation to run here. Let me do my job.”

  And just like that, I was out of the picture. Wilson took over the questioning and I scanned the surrounding area.

  The soul of the woman was sitting nearby, head bent back toward the night sky as if watching the stars. She looked downright serene. I’d have been mad as hell, but chances were, she didn’t know she was dead yet. I started to walk toward her.

  Wilson called out, “You okay, Leah?”

  I startled and looked back to see all eyes on me. Joaquín and Wilson looked concerned. Ramírez had a notepad out and was looking at me with his cocky, arrogant grin firmly plastered to his face. The grin that claimed just how much better than me he thought he was. Ian Nightwalker had pulled his hair back from his face, revealing his eyes. His expression was both curious and neutral.

  “I, ah, just need some air. I’m fine,” I replied.

  Joaquín took a step toward me. “I’ll walk with you.”

  “No, Joaquín.” I let out an exasperated breath. “I can take care of myself.”

  The corners of Ian’s mouth twitched momentarily, as if he was suppressing a smile.

  I ignored them all and turned back toward the soul who was now standing, looking at me as if I was a mirage. She wasn’t quite sure I was really there. I felt compelled to keep moving toward her. Don’t ask me why. I just had to go to her, talk to her. I approached her slowly and a smile spread across her face, her eyes sparkled with it.

  “You’ve come to take me beyond.” She looked contented, peaceful even.

  “No,” I whispered. “I’m sorry, that is not one of my abilities.”

  “You are the soul seeker, the seeker of spirits,” she replied. “I died with nobility. I did not allow my enemy to steal that which would give her strength from me. I have earned my place among the sky.” Her voice was still calm, gentle.

  “It was a woman who killed you?”

  She rose, her face to the sky. “No, not a woman.”

  “You said her, you said ‘did not allow her to steal your strength’.”

  “Yes, but I did not say it was a human.”

  “What then, what killed you?” My confusion caused my voice to rise. I glanced back to see the others going about the business of recording the murder—photographs, evidence collections and notes being taken to file in reports later. Everyone was in motion.

  Everyone, that is, except Ian.

  He stood so still I might not have seen him at all if I hadn’t already known he was there. Only the light from the moon glowing in his eyes gave him presence. He was like the darkness itself, come to life in the form of a man. He stared at me as if he could see through me and I shivered.

  “Soul seeker?” She called to me in almost a whisper.

  I pulled my eyes away from Ian, embarrassed that I’d been staring at him without realizing it. “Yes?”

  “I must go now. But I will return to you,” the soul began to fade.

  That really creeped me. I had never come across a soul who knew they were leaving and always when they left, they did not return. Ever! Talk about a serious case of the heebidybejeebidies! I did a full body shiver.

  “Wait!” I was starting to feel panicky. “What is your name?”

  “I am Zarendia.”

  “Where are you going, how will you return? Can I contact you again?”

  She smiled. “Stay close to the nightwalker. It will protect and guide you.”

  “The nightwalker? You mean Ian Nightwalker? What has he got to do with this?”

  “It will protect you and guide you.” She repeated and was gone. No fading, just there one minute and gone the next. I looked up in the sky as if I would see her flying above me. The world of stars above me took one sick spin and I stumbled. I felt the crunch of bone on rock; then everything went black.

  Chapter Five

  Sound came back first. The faint trickle of water flowing nearby gently woke me. The smooth, cool feel of silk surrounded me. The pungent odor and taste of smelling salts forced my eyes open. I opened them to the same sky full of stars that had closed them. Except there were two of them. Twin skies framed by a sphere of white. I squeezed my eyes shut tight then felt a cool hand on my forehead.

  “Miss Wolfe,” a soothing voice whispered through me. “You must awaken now. Your friends are worried and are at this moment summoning an ambulance.”

  “No,” I mouthed but I couldn’t hear the word. “No,” I yelled louder. “Wilson!” I shouted as I forced my eyes open. I could see the room around me and realized someone must have taken me inside. The twin skies in front of me were the eyes of Ian. As I watched, his eyes faded to a sapphire blue. His hand was on my forehead, his face inches from mine.

  “Wilson, no,” I shouted louder.

  Ian moved back from my face and Wilson strode through the door.

  “Leah,” he looked relieved. “An ambulance will be on the way. Just lie back.”

  “No, Wilson. No ambulance, I will not go to the hospital. I’m fine…” I tried to sit up. Ian’s hand on my shoulder kept me down.

  “Okay, Leah. Rest,” Wilson soothed. “I’ll call them off if you agree to let Alli look at you. If she says you need to see a doctor, don’t fight her on it.”

  Alli had been a nurse at the local hospital for over twenty-five years. She’d used her skills to keep me out of the hospital many times.

  I sucked in a deep breath and slowly let it out. “Agreed.”

  “What Alli says goes, Leah. I mean it.” He sounded doubtful but he knew he had me. I’d do almost anything to avoid a hospital and he knew it.

  “Alli’s word is law. Got it,” I agreed.

  “I’ll call off the ambulance. You rest here while I finish things up and I’ll come back for you when I’m done.”

  “I can get up. I want to go with you.” The confidence I was trying to put out faded as the room took another spin.

  “Leah.” He glanced at Ian. “Mr. Nightwalker is not a suspect. I checked him out myself. You are safe with him. Stay here until I come for you or I swear, I’ll get a group of uniforms to strap you to the gurney myself.” He narrowed his eyes.

  I let out a sigh, long and loud. “Okay, you win.” The room began to slow. “I’ll stay.”

  “If she gives you any trouble, Nightwalker, have a uniform contact me on the r
adio.”

  “I am sure she will be a perfect patient.” His voice held a confidence. He clearly didn’t know me.

  “I’ll give Joaquín an update. He’s worried out of his mind. I told him he’d be more use to you by working than sitting here.” He gave me a warning look. “Leah,” he admonished with his eyes narrowed.

  I gave him one quick nod and he left.

  “Where am I?”

  “You are in my home. It was the closest place to bring you to lie down and recover.” He spoke softly.

  “Thank you, Mr. Nightwalker.”

  When my head cleared enough to think straight, I looked around the room. I was right about the pants. Ian wore leather, not denim, and they clung to him tightly, defining the sinewy lines of his legs. I couldn’t help but wonder how comfortable leather would be. I mean, I have a leather jacket, but it doesn’t have much skin contact.

  I shook my head to clear it and focused on the room. Textured walls, typical in southwest design, were painted in a pale rust color that looked like the sky during sunset. A fireplace dominated one wall, surrounded by what looked like hand-painted tiles using mixtures of blues, reds, oranges and yellows. Pale copper wall sconces added a soft light on each side. The effect was striking. Two brown leather chairs on either side of the fireplace were draped with colorful throw blankets and pillows. One wall was floor to ceiling windows on either side of a set of French doors that were currently open. A slight breeze made the sheer curtains billow lightly. An armoire of a dark wood with black wrought-iron accents sat on the opposite wall. I was lying in a huge bed made of the same wood as the armoire and covered in pale yellow silk sheets.

  I sat up and for the first time realized that I was not only dizzy, I was in pain. I reached my hand to the back of my head and felt the sticky remnants of blood in my hair. The knot beneath my hair had already grown to an impressive size.

  “You hit your head on a rock when you fainted.” Ian had moved to the head of the bed. He reached for my arms as I tried to sit up.

  I slapped him away. “I can take care of myself, Mr. Nightwalker.” I pulled myself up and promptly slid off the side of the bed. Silk sheets, apparently, are very slippery.